Powers
by TheParardoxAt221B
Summary: Powers. A word important to both of the Holmes’ but for different reasons. It’s Sherlocks first case and the only thing that Mycroft abides by.
1. Powers

———————— Carl Powers —————————

Mycroft was curled up on the sofa his nose had finally healed straight and his eye was normal again. He still hadn't thrown out out the umbrella though, didn't really know why he'd kept it.

Sentiment?

No. He didn't have that.

It was... to keep his parents out of his business, and his brothers curiosity.

Sherlock bounded down the stairs and opened the front door. Mycroft cracked an eye open. He waited.

Sherlock threw the newspaper onto the table next to him. Mycroft lazily picked it up and began to read. He heard his mother berate Sherlock for drinking the milk straight from the bottle again. Mycroft read a few pages before he noticed that Sherlock was stood behind him reading over his shoulder. "What on earth do you want Sherlock?" He asked.

"Can I read the paper?" He asked. Mycroft sighed and handed his brother the newspaper. He'd done this the last couple of days. Sherlock took it and sat on Mycrofts legs. Mycroft hissed in pain and sharply took his legs out from underneath his brother. "God Sherlock!" He yelled. Sherlock looked at him in surprise. Mycroft never got angry no matter the pestering or bullying or stupidity he never got angry.

"Mycroft love, your father and I are going out!" Came Mrs Holmes' voice from downstairs. "Uncle Rudi has said he'll look after you and Sherlock for the day!"

"Why can't I stay here and Sherlock go with you!" Mycroft shouted back. His mother popped her head around the door.

"I asked Sherlock about that but he said he wants to spend the day with you, and Uncle Rudi will be in his office all day... also we might stay the night ... so?"

"Fine." Mycroft replied. His mother beamed and left the room. Mycroft groaned. His ankle hadn't completely stopped hurting and now he would have to spend a day with Sherlock and his Uncle who was under the impression that Mycroft did not remember Eurus either.

It was so hard being the smartest person in the room.

Mycroft packed a bag of everything he would need, books, paper... umbrella. Mycroft smiled as he held his umbrella, it took the weight off of his foot and it made him look sophisticated. He picked up his bag and went back downstairs. Sherlock was sat on his rucksack watching Mycroft intently. "Now why brother mine would you want to spend the day at Uncle Rudi's? With me of all people?" Mycroft asked with his head cocked on one side, leaning on his umbrella. Sherlock looked at first Mycrofts foot, then his nose and then his eye. He was eight now and still his curly hair was like a mop over his eyes. He wore Mycrofts old jacket and his wellington boots.

"I want to talk to you about something." He replied.

"Why couldn't it wait?" Asked Mycroft.

"It's important!" He replied.

"What like the solar system?" Mycroft mocked. Sherlock glared at him. "Fine." He said throwing his hands up in surrender. They sat on the stairs until they heard a car pull up outside. Mrs Holmes handed Sherlock a bag of sweets and ushered them out of the house.

Mycroft turned around to offer a complaint but found the door shut in his face. Sighing he turned to his little brother. "This thing you're going to tell me had better be important." He said and then picked up his bag and walked over to the black car that had pulled up in the drive. Sherlock followed slowly behind. The butler took their bags off of them and they got in.

"What did you want to tell me then?" Mycroft asked. Sherlock looked from his brother to the driver. Mycroft sighed and began to drum his fingers on his umbrella in annoyance. Sherlock began to eat the sweets which made it impossible to disappear into his mind palace.

They didn't talk for the entire hour drive. When they finally arrived Mycroft found himself grinning, he found his Uncle Rudi hilarious. The man cross dressed in his spare time which had always been a joke between the two brothers. They'd sat outiside his room watching their Uncle try on dresses for around an hour while falling into silent fits of laughter.

They got out of the car and looked up at their Uncles house. Sherlock edged himself nearer to Mycroft as the doors opened. Mycroft himself found Uncle Rudi a bit overbearing but he tried not to show it for Sherlocks sake. The man that came out of the house seemed to walk as if no earthly force had any effect on his body. Sherlock again edged closer. "Michael and... Sheldon?" Asked Uncle Rudi.

"It's Mycroft and Sherlock," replied the 15 year old through gritted teeth.

"Ah yes of course..." the man trailed off at this point. The three of them stood on the path for sometime before Mycroft cleared his throat. The older man suddenly pulled himself out of his thoughts and invited the boys inside.

Inside, the great oak staircase was beautifully carved and lead up to the bedrooms and most likely his office. Uncle Rudi made his usual excuse and disappeared up the stairs. Mycroft hadn't been in the house since he'd been Sherlocks age. Sherlock looked up at his big brother, but Mycroft just sighed and picked up their bags that the butler had left. Wow what had Sherlock put in his rucksack? Sighing and trying not to put weight on his ankle, Mycroft carried his bag, Sherlocks rucksack and his umbrella up the stairs and to the room they shared.

"So brother mine you got what you wanted, deserted house and utter confusion." Said Mycroft. He collapsed on the bed, his ankle hurt worse than ever, and that was Sherlocks fault anyway. What had he put in that rucksack! Sherlock busied himself before pulling out the newspapers from the last couple of mornings.

Mycroft tilted his head in confusion. Sherlock jumped onto the bed next to him "Have you seen this?" He said excitedly.

"Almost certainly," Mycroft replied. Sherlock huffed and pushed a peice of paper in front of Mycroft.

"Look Myc!" He said pointing.

"So a boy dies, in a pool, in London, what's your point?" Mycroft asked.

"Can't you see it though! The problem!" Sherlock almost squealed in delight. Mycroft sighed and took the paper off of his brother.

"Oh yes, and...?" He trailed off. He couldn't see what his brother was getting at, the police made mistakes all the time. Just because they couldn't see the obvious flaw in their theory didn't make the case special.

"Well then we should call the police! Point out the mistake! His shoes are missing!" Exclaimed Sherlock.

"The fact is Sherlock that this... Carl... Powers is just another wrong case but in the grand scheme of things brother mine it means nothing." Replied Mycroft.

"But if we told someone important then the police could catch the murderer!"

"And how do you know it's murder Sherlock? You're right it is but how do you know?" Mycroft asked smiling. Maybe Sherlock wasn't as stupid as he looked. Right now though Mycroft was truly happy because Sherlock had taken an interest in something and his past and Eurus didn't stop him doing his little deductions and Mycroft could finally talk to his brother without having to watch what he said.

"No one would just take his shoes. So they would have to do it deliberately. If it was by accident someone would've turned them in. So obviously the shoes contained something that would unravel the case, so Carl was murdered!" Gasped Sherlock. Mycroft smiled at his little brother. "So why can't I tell the police or his mum and dad?" He asked. Mycroft looked at him.

"Because Sherlock the lie is preferable to the truth. That's what's clever about the case everyone would rather believe that the boy died naturally rather than there was some sort of nefarious motive. Everyone wants to believe it." Said Mycroft.

"But why?"

"Because it is also a kindness to the family rather than putting them through the sadness of their sons murder." Sherlock looked at him and nodded. "But, Sherlock I challenge you to come back to me at the end of the day and tell me more deductions about this case. You could be... a ... consulting detective."

Sherlock had bounded off to the library with his newspaper clippings and magnifying glass which he had produced from his rucksack. Mycroft smiled. He waited five minutes before deciding to head to Uncle Rudi's office. A year ago Rudi had told his parents that Eurus had died in another fire. His parents had believed it. Mycroft hadn't. One, Uncle Rudi was the worst liar ever and two, Eurus didn't have the concentration to stay dead. Mycroft crept along the corridor, past the library, past Uncle Rudi's bedroom where the shrieks of feminine delight erupted. Mycroft crept to the other side of the house and went into the study. He sat in the chair and began to think. All the drawers were locked and the keys would be unlikely to be on his person due to the amount of times he changed his outfit. So the key was in this room. Mycroft leapt over to the book case. Dust. You could replace anything but not dust, dust was eloquent. Breaks in the dust line. Hmmm there was definitely more than one key hidden in the book case as one whole shelf was missing the heavy dust that had fallen on the others. It would come down to the spines, there were three that were the most damaged. One however was written by Uncle Rudi and the man was very vain so he probably read it to make himself feel better. Hmmm two left. One was his mother's book on mechanics, that would be the most obvious choice if you didn't know the Holmes family, and Uncle Rudi was a lot like Mycroft with sentiment and so it wouldn't be his mothers book.

The last book was a book on psychology written in Greek. That fitted the deductions as Eurus' name was greek and her issues were psychological. Mycroft smiled and pulled out the book. A key dropped out into his palm from the spine.

Now which drawer? Considering it was family the drawer would be near the top and the handle well worn. Mycroft pushed the key in the lock and it immediately opened. He pulled out the documents inside.

**Sherrinford**

What on earth was that? The folder was thick and part of the casing was quite damaged so, frequently opened. Mycroft flicked through it. He stopped at a map. It was some sort of island, more like a prison, the longer he looked at it. He snapped it shut and locked the drawer. He pocketed the key and went to his room, he got some paper and went into the dining room. It took him three hours to copy down all the documents.

He took it back to the office and as he was putting the key back he heard his Uncle walk down the corridor. Oh no! He hid behind the bookcase and placed a hand over his mouth to try and hide his breathing. His Uncle came into the room and took a seat at the desk. He picked up the phone. "Yes put me through to Sherrinford please, yes I'll hold." The room was silent for ten minutes before Uncle Rudi began speaking again. "I've warned you before about this! Reduce human contact, don't allow any one to make a psychological assessment of her! This is of National security!" He paused as the person on the other end of the line began speaking. "No, I have her brothers at my house now. They are 15 and 8. No the younger one seems to have completely forgotten her and so is of no interest to you." He waited again. "No it's not like he ignores it he just doesn't remember." Another pause. "The older one seems to suspect something, he always has, when he was younger he could tell if people were lying immediately. I doubt he has lost the skill. But Mycroft is however, of intelligence that is even superior to mine." Mycroft listened intently, who was on the other end of that phone? "I will keep an eye on it. Sherrinford is built to keep the world safe from what is inside. Eurus Holmes is your most important prisoner and if her brothers show any signs of her behaviour I will not hesitate..." Mycroft burst out from his hiding place. Uncle Rudi fell off his chair in surprise and Mycroft held his umbrella out in front of him. He picked up the phone his uncle had dropped and placed it against his ear.

"Who is this?" He asked.

"This is Sherrinford, sir." The man replied.

"More specifically!" Mycroft hissed.

"MI6... sir."

"What is my sisters current mental situation?" Mycroft asked.

"I don't think I'm free to discuss this information."

"Oh no you see I think you are, because if you don't tell me I will expose Sherrinford and many other state secrets which I have taken over the years unless you tell me." The conversation lasted about five minutes more until Mycroft placed the phone back on the receiver. He'd heard enough and was feeling slightly ill from what had changed about his sister in the last couple of years. "I think you need to tell me how you are involved in this." He said to his Uncle. He withdrew the point of his umbrella and his Uncle stood up. Uncle Rudi explained the side of the story Mycroft didn't have. Mycroft felt sick at what had happened to Eurus. He sagged against the book case and his umbrella fell from his grip.

His uncle made two short strides across the room and held Mycroft against the bookcase. "Now you listen here," he whispered. Mycroft bit back a whimper. "Your sister is a security concern not a stray cat that you can feel sorry for. Now Sherlock remembers nothing but you, you do. Now that's a problem for the British government as you are a liability for the most protected prisoner in the whole world. Which probably makes you the most important free person on the planet." Mycroft gulped and closed his eyes. "So you're going to keep your mouth shut and if you breathe a word about Sherrinford or Eurus to anyone you will never speak again. Understand?" Mycroft nodded slowly. He'd never been so scared in all his life. His uncle picked up Mycrofts umbrella and handed it to him. "Welcome to the British government, Mycroft Holmes."

At dinner that night Mycroft didn't eat a thing he just felt like he was going to throw up. His future was no doubt being planned now. Maximum security, no contact with the outside world. Much like his sister but for his parents and his brothers sake, his prison would be his chartered future as the British government. Sherlock seemed more distracted than ever just staring continuously at his big brother. Mycroft coughed. He couldn't deal with everyone watching him. "So... Sherlock..." another cough. "What did you deduce about that Carl Powers case?" Sherlock smiled.

"So I read the paper from today and it said that everyone from Carl's year had been at his funeral so the killer might be older that Carl as he's unlikely to be younger as they wouldn't have the knowledge to get away with it." Sherlock explained beaming. "Also I want to be the thing you said. Consulting... Detective."

"There's no such thing." Mycroft replied.

"Why can't there be?" Said Sherlock pouting.

"You can do whatever like!" Said Uncle Rudi. The man speaking shut Mycroft up and Sherlocks fear of the man kept him quiet for the rest of the evening.

Later that night they were lying in bed when Sherlock said, "Thank you."

"What for brother mine?" He asked.

"For letting the bullies bully you and not me, and for understanding my deductions on the case."

"Oh so you did notice?" Mycroft remarked.

"Yes... your nose is still not straightened properly and your limp is distinctive when you don't have the umbrella."

"I underestimated you detective." Mycroft chuckled.

"Consulting detective... Mycroft?"

"Yes?"

"What are you going to do when your older?"

"Didn't you ask this before a couple of years ago?"

"Yes but today you were talking to Uncle Rudi and mum says he gets people jobs." Mycroft paused and thought about the days events.

"I suppose a consulting politician." Mycroft said trying to hide the sadness in his voice. In one day he'd felt like they'd both grown up around ten years more than they were. Mycrofts future was set and he would never be free again.


	2. Part2

I want to thank GH97 for the inspiration!!! Enjoy!!! Also don't hate the ending there will be a third part!!!!

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Mycroft lay on his back, staring up at the ceiling. It was Christmas morning. Downstairs he could hear Sherlock bothering his parents over something or other. Mycroft didn't want to get up. They were supposed to spend Christmas at Uncle Rudi's. With the events of their previous visit Mycroft wasn't looking forward to going back. He'd been followed by MI6 everywhere he went, right now they were in the street outside his house. Why had he gone looking for answers about Eurus? She seemed to make his life miserable even when she wasn't around. Mycroft cast his eyes towards his desk, his uncle didn't know everything, however. Myc still had the documents he'd copied. There was a knock on the door. "Yes?" Asked Mycroft.

"C'mon darling time to get up it's Christmas! We're going to Rudi's so get dressed and pack a bag." Came his mothers sing song voice. Mycroft sighed.

He went downstairs and threw his bag at the door. "Mycroft?" Said Sherlock. His little brother gazed at him.

"Have you opened my presents Sherlock?" Myc asked glaring at the little boy.

"Dad told me to!" He whined.

"Why on earth would dad tell you to open my presents? I can open them tomorrow!" Mycroft queried.

"Dad says that your not gonna be here for a while... are you leaving?" Sherlock seemed just as confused as Mycroft. He needed to look at that invite! Mycroft walked into the kitchen and began rummaging through the drawers. "Mum put the invite on the top of the cupboard." Said Sherlock who had followed him in.

"Great!" Said Mycroft who grabbed hold of the dining room chair and reached up for the slip of paper. As he got down Sherlock snatched the invite out of his hands and began to read.

"You are going away Myc!" Yelled Sherlock.

"Shut up! Mum will hear!" Hissed Mycroft. He took the paper back and began to read. It said.

**_To My Beautiful Sister and my Brother-In-Law,_**

**_I would like to invite you and your wonderful sons over to my Hall for Christmas Day. Lunch and Dinner will be catered by my top chef and you are welcome to stay the night. I would also like to discuss looking after young Mycroft Holmes for a time? He is a bright young boy with a good future and I wish to tutor him in my line of work. I look forward to seeing you at Christmas._**

**_Rudi._**

Mycroft let out a shaky breath.

"Are you alright Myc?" Sherlock asked.

"Go away Sherlock." Mycroft whispered. Sherlock pouted.

"Why?"

"Just go away!" Mycroft hissed. Sherlock quickly disappeared. Myc placed his hands on the table top to steady himself. He felt like he was going to throw up. He heard someone humming as they came down the stairs, his mother soon appeared in the Kitchen.

"Sorry about your presents Myc, but we really need to get to your Uncle Rudi's..." she trailed off after seeing Mycrofts ashen face. "Myc? Are you alright? Darling you look quite ill!" She said alarmed.

"I'm fine..."

"Myc..."

"I said I'm fine mum!" He yelled.

Mycroft had accepted his fate now and had begun packing, when he was positive everyone was downstairs, he pulled up his floor boards and took out all the documents that he'd collected over the years. Perhaps he could make himself indespensible? If he knew enough to be dangerous but not enough to be dead, maybe he could survive this? He leafed through the many papers, there were many scandals, employment of assassins, blackmail. The British empire wasn't the most honest in the world but it did get the job done.

Mycroft dumped the rest of his bags at the door and walked into the living room where his family were waiting for him. His mother wouldn't look at him and neither would his brother. His father as usual could never keep up with anyone and was so completely oblivious to why everyone seemed to have a problem with Myc. "Sorry Sherlock," Mycroft mumbled. His brother didn't reply but stopped frowning.

"Car's here!" Shouted their dad. Mycroft picked up his bags and umbrella and followed the rest of his family out into the Christmas cold. A black limo sat in the drive and after bundling all of their stuff into the boot they got in and settled down for the hour drive. His mum eventually asked him what was wrong to which Mycroft did not reply. Upon arriving the butler took their bags and they were escorted into the dining hall for Christmas lunch. Sherlock sat between his mother and his brother as they ate. For a time no one spoke until Uncle Rudi asked the question Mycroft had been dreading.

"So, Mycroft," he said "Would you like to spend some time working?" His parents simply looked at him encouragingly. Mycroft looked intently at his plate.

"If my parents believe it to be constructive, I will gladly go with you." Mycroft managed. He couldn't say no as he would probably be shot for what he knew and he wanted Sherlock to know that he didn't want to go. Sherlock had to know that.

"We believe it will be most constructive Myc!" Said his mother. Almost daring him to say no. How was he in this mess?

"How long will Myc be gone?" Asked Sherlock.

"A year." Replied Uncle Rudi. Mycroft choked on his food. Sherlock went pale and even his parents seemed to be regretting what they'd said.

"Are you sure it needs to be that long?" Asked Mrs Holmes.

"For Mycroft to get a good feel of the job he needs to be there for a long period of time. Even a year might be too short!" Uncle Rudi replied beaming. He knew he'd won. Mycroft had no choice but to accept. He placed his knife and fork down, he couldn't eat anymore. Uncle Rudi noticed and said. "If you're finished Mycroft we can discuss the finer points in my office?" Uncle Rudi smiled maliciously at him.

"Go on Myc." Said his father encouragingly. Realising no one was coming to his aid, Mycroft picked up his umbrella and allowed himself to be taken into his Uncles study.

"Have a seat." Said his Uncle waving to an armchair on the other side of the desk. Reluctantly Mycroft took a seat, laying his umbrella across his knees. "Now tomorrow after your parents and your brother have left, we will take a helicopter to Sherrinford. You will be able to speak with your sister..."

"Speak with her! Are you mad? She will as I call it, enslave me!" Mycroft said incredulously.

"Good try Mr Holmes but I am fully aware that her mind tricks never worked on you. Your brother managed as well but he could be manipulated through sentiment as was proved by the incident. You are unaffected by sentiment it makes you perfect for the job and makes you invaluable to the British government!" Countered Uncle Rudi. Mycroft began to get more desperate,

"You can't give me a job!" He cried.

"Why not?" Replied Rudi amused at how possibly the most important person in England at that moment was begging for his freedom.

"I don't have any qualifications." Replied Mycroft, it was true he didn't and there was nothing Uncle Rudi could do to change that.

"Well you have something better than that." Mycroft's Uncle replied.

"Which is?"

"A strong recommendation."

"From whom?"

"Someone of interest." Uncle Rudi replied. Mycroft glared at him.

"Some Christmas this is turning out to be." He muttered much to the amusement of his Uncle. Uncle Rudi reached behind his desk and produced Mycrofts files. Mycroft fainted.

Mycroft woke up when his door creaked open. He sat bolt upright and pulled the quilt back because he knew. He knew this was his death. He was going to die, he knew too much. Two burly men walked in followed by a man in possession of two needles. Mycroft jumped out of bed and made a pitiful attempt to escape but was soon tackled to the floor. "Please no! Please I'm 15! I'm no one really! Please..." Mycroft yelled tears running down his face. "I'll do whatever you ask! Please! I DONT WANT TO DIE!" He screamed.

"Hold him down, we need to put him to sleep." Said the man bearing down over Mycroft holding a needle. Mycroft was crying hard and struggling as much as he could against the men. He couldn't get away as they forced his shirt sleeve up and held him still. "Please...Please..." he whispered. Tears stung his cheeks as the needle was injected. His muscles relaxed and the men stood back. "Sherlock... sherlo...sher..." oblivion took him.


	3. Pt3

Mycrofts bedroom door opened. "M...Myc?" Asked Sherlock. He slipped further into his brothers room. "Myc? Are you awake?" He asked again. His brother didn't respond. Sherlock tip-toed closer to the bed. He placed his hand on Mycrofts arm and gently shook it. Mycroft snapped awake and grabbed Sherlocks hand. Sherlock yelped as he tried to escape from his brother. Mycroft blinked before letting go.

"Sorry Sherlock." He said surprised. Sherlock examined Mycroft quickly with his eyes before satisfying himself that Mycroft was indeed himself again.

"What's wrong with your arm? And why are your eyes red?" He asked. Mycroft sighed, his brother didn't miss anything anymore.

"Just a little cut brother mine, I was sick earlier and..."

"Stop lying." Sherlock said matter of factly.

"Alright, what did Uncle Rudi say happened?" Asked Mycroft. Sherlock thought about it for a moment before saying.

"Can I get in bed?" He asked sheepishly. Mycroft smiled before pulling back his quilt and moving over to make room for his little brother. Sherlock smiled as he bounded into bed.

"Well after Uncle Rudi took you into his study, me, mum and dad went for a walk. We got lost and didn't get back until five. When we came in Uncle Rudi gave us Christmas dinner and said that you'd gone to bed feeling ill. Which mum believed 'cause you were pale this morning!" Mycroft nodded. "Uncle Rudi said he needed to see to something after dinner and disappeared upstairs after these three men in black. Mum and dad didn't see them and were watching TV. I followed them and heard you screaming and crying, until it all went quiet. That's when Uncle Rudi went inside, I managed to see you being carried into bed. You looked dead." Sherlock finished sadly.

"And then?" Asked Mycroft.

"Uncle Rudi came out and took me back downstairs." Replied Sherlock almost mechanically.

They sat in silence for a moment before Sherlock prodded Mycroft for the real story. Mycroft related his side to his little brother who seemed to listen as if in a dream. "Why did you get up?" Asked Mycroft after he looked at the time. It was three in the morning.

"I didn't. I never went to sleep." Replied Sherlock. Mycroft stared at his little brother who looked back from under his mop of curls.

"Sherlock why didn't you go to sleep!" Demanded Mycroft.

"I never gave you your Christmas present from me!" Retorted his brother, pouting at Mycroft. He handed a little box to his brother who looked at it confused.

"What is it?" Asked Mycroft suspiciously.

"Open it!"

"Fine," slowly Mycroft unwrapped the little present, then he opened the box and a golden ring lay inside. Mycroft pulled it out and looked amused at his little brother. "Where did you get this from brother mine?"

"I found it! Mum said I could have it but I thought you'd like it better!" He said grinning impishly. Mycroft smiled as he put it on, it fit perfectly! There was a small engraving on it. MH. Musgrave Hall. "Mum wouldn't tell me what it meant, but I like to think..." oh no! He can't remember! "It means Mycroft Holmes!" Mycroft almost cried in relief, he hadn't remembered. Maybe eventually he could convince himself that it meant Mycroft Holmes. He turned back to the expectant Sherlock.

"Thank you brother mine, and here is yours." Mycroft produced a Christmas package and gave it to his little brother. Excitably he ripped open the wrappings and pulled out the blue scarf. He smiled and quickly tied the scarf around his neck. He grinned at his brother before hugging him tightly, Mycroft went stiff as his bony brother threw himself on top of him.

"Thank you Myc!" He mumbled. Mycroft laughed.

"Now off to bed!" Mycroft said. Sherlock glared at him before yawning. They both fell into fits of laughter. Sherlock yawned again before curling up against his brother. It took a matter of minutes before he was asleep. Mycroft sighed. He ran his hands through Sherlocks hair. Eventually Sherlocks breathing became steady and Mycroft smiled. There was no trace of Sherlocks hardship, Eurus or anything that may hurt him. Mycroft would make it stay that way. Sherlock would never be hurt again, no matter what happened. Mycroft would protect him from everything. Even from himself.

Mycroft stumbled down the corridor, a sleeping Sherlock in his arms. Eventually he tucked his sleeping brother into bed. Mycroft smiled at the black curls on the white pillow. "Goodnight brother mine." Mycroft said and turned off the light.

At eight o'clock the next morning the Holmes family stood on the drive. Mycroft hugged his parents and let his mother bother him as much as she liked. Eventually she stepped away, his father shook his hand. Smiling brilliantly at him like any proud parent. Mycroft returned a grimace. Mycroft eventually turned to his little brother. Sherlock wrapped his arms around his big brothers leg. Mycroft tousled his hair. Eventually Sherlock let go and Mycroft kneeled down until he was at eye level.

"Now Sherlock Holmes, I'm not going to be around for a while, so if you ever feel scared or lonely brother mine. You open this letter and follow the instructions. Yes?" He asked. His brother nodded tears rolling down his cheeks.

"Please Myc, please don't go!" Sherlock mumbled. Mycroft smiled, properly this time. Somehow he knew it would be the last time he smiled for a good long while.

"It's have to Sherlock, but I will always be here." Mycroft said. He pressed his finger on his brothers temple. "And don't stop investigating brother mine! You truly have a gift! Don't lose your big brain or your big heart! If you do I shall know!" He said smiling. Sherlock laughed and hugged his brother tightly. Mrs Holmes peeled the brothers apart and took Sherlock into the car.

"Be good Myc and remember that your mum and I love you and your brother. See you around Mycroft Holmes." Said his dad with a mock salute. His father had never been the most interesting person but Mycroft didn't want his dad to leave. His father joined his mother and Sherlock in the car and it pulled out of the drive.

Mycroft felt a hand resting on his shoulder. "Now Mr Holmes sentiment over. We have work." Said his Uncle as he lead the suddenly very alone fifteen year old back inside. Mycroft was sent to collect his bags and he came back into the entrance where his Uncle stood waiting. "Come on Mr Holmes, we do have a schedule!" Sang his Uncle. Mycroft slowed down his already dreary stomp down the stairs. He'd been right last night, his life had ended, just not in the way he'd expected. His Uncle grinned maliciously from the foot of the stairs. "I can see you are going to try and control what will happen to you in the coming year. What you need to understand is that I'm in control and and your life can be terminated at any point. This is a kindness and a warning." He said. Mycroft didn't have time to be confused as electricity exploded inside of him. The hot licks of energy coursed through his blood. The pain burnt him. He writhed as he tried to rid himself from what was happening. Detach. No emotions. Not important. Brain important. Nothing else. No pain. It wasn't there. The burning sensation seemed to last for hours. In reality it was a couple of seconds.

Mycroft finally breathed. He opened his eyes. His Uncle was glaring at him. Mycroft gulped down air, what was that? "You wondered what we placed in your neck? It keeps you under control. I have no reason to trust you and your intelligence is only rivalled by that of your sister. Do not test me Mycroft Holmes!" His Uncle said. "Now come along we have an appointment to keep!"

Finally sat in the car, Mycroft gripped his umbrella tightly. His hands were shaking horribly from the experience. He fumbled with the ring Sherlock had given him. They drove away from his Uncles house towards London where they would get a helicopter to Sherrinford and Mycroft would finally confront his sister. A matter of which he had wished would be a long way off in life.

Around half way through their almost silent journey, Uncle Rudi produced Mycrofts files. Mycroft gave him a questioning look before his Uncle explained. "Better solutions than anyone in MI6, or anyone with the highest level of clearance including the military. Quite extraordinary!" His uncle explained. Mycroft wasn't surprised, most people were stupid. Though the compliment pleased him as it meant his Uncle had done worse. "No doubt you have already memorised the facts in here?"

"Of course, that was simply for reference." Mycroft finally said. His Uncle gazed at the documents in thought before placing them back in his case. They continued in silence.

When they finally arrived at the London offices, they were quickly taken up to the roof. Where a helicopter was ready and waiting. His Uncle climbed in without a thought. Mycroft looked around him. The blades were whipping up what was already a bitter wind. The beautiful industrial feel of London surrounded him, the buildings of glass glinted in the mid morning sun. Destiny awaited him.


	4. Pt4

As they landed armed personnel ran towards them. Mycroft gripped his umbrella tightly as they landed on the beach. The helicopter blades slowed down and eventually came to a stop. They got out and Mycrofts Uncle handed the guards his ID. Mycroft suppressed the urge to throw up. Heights made him feel sick. "Who's the kid?" Asked a particularly gruff guard.

"This is Mycroft Holmes." Replied his Uncle. The men stiffened.

"Is he..."

"He is of no concern at the moment if it changes I will of course alert you." Rudi clarified. They made their way to the great stone building. It looked like something out of a horror story, it was as if a constant storm hung over it. Mycroft could feel the eyes on his back. He was very aware of the fact that they all carried machine guns with two pistols in their pockets. All of this was for his sister. He wouldn't be in hell is it wasn't for her. Maybe though maybe Sherlock wouldn't rot alongside his siblings. He could only hope.

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He stood in the elevator as it descended. How was he stood here? What unfortunate thing had he done that had brought him here? He'd been too keen, too clever for his own good. Well five minutes with his sister would make him feel stupid enough to last a good long time. He placed his hands on the handle of his umbrella and played with his ring. I am Mycroft Holmes and I will not be afraid, he told himself. The doors slid open.

Eurus sat at a metal desk. Between the siblings were two sheets of bullet proof glass. There was a mark on the floor 3 feet away. He'd been told not to pass it. The girl looked up at him. "Hello Myc." She said grinning. He nodded in acknowledgment. "Aren't you going to give me a hug?"

"Why would I do that?"

"Isn't that how usual siblings greet each other?"

"I wouldn't know."

"I'm sure you do Myc, you always prided yourself in knowing everyone else's business."

"I think best not sister mine, given the circumstances." He replied. He would not allow himself to rise to the challenge.

"Of course not, as your nosiness has been what has got you here right now. Am I wrong?" She asked. Mycroft didn't respond. How had she deduced that? Eurus smiled. Mycroft remained emotionless. Control, control his emotions. "How is Sherlock?" She asked. Mycroft felt the mask slip away as he glared at his sister.

"Fine." He replied through gritted teeth.

"Mmmm and to think that the only reason I'm here is because you wished to protect him and yet here you are, just as trapped as me."

"I'm not trapped."

"Your neck says otherwise and you still have a slight shake in your hands. How did power feel?"

"I think you would know better than me, as you're the one behind bars and not me." He smiled. Eurus pondered this for a moment before standing up and approaching the glass between them.

"You're scared." She said. It was a fact. Mycroft was scared and no one else had ever been able to deduce that. Eurus always had.

"You would be if you were stood in front of a convicted murderer, psychopath and child abuser." Mycroft replied slyly. Eurus simply smiled.

The voice of his uncle finally came through telling him to get out of the room. He ignored it. His sisters smile broadened.

"How are mum and dad?" She asked. Eurus however was off the mark on that one. Mycroft didn't worry about his parents there was no point. Mycroft had the upper hand.

"They think you're dead." Sadly it didn't have the desired effect. Apparently Uncle Rudi had already had the delight of informing Eurus of that fact.

"And Sherlock?"

"Doesn't remember." Mycroft replied stiffly.

"But you're wearing the ring?" Mycroft glanced down at the Musgrave ring.

"Circumstantial sister dear, I'm afraid that Sherlock Holmes has no memory of having a sister at all. Redbeard is all but gone, an old story of no consequence." Eurus bristled. Mycroft finally felt in control. Eurus was losing to him. "You failed Eurus." Mycroft said. The elevator beeped behind him.

"The emotionless front that you present brother, it even convinced me for a while, but you are still weak Mycroft, and Sherlock Holmes will bring your world crashing down."

"What do you mean? Eurus tell me!" He asked. The guards were trying to drag him back to the elevator.

"What do you mean? Eurus!" He shouted. Mycroft felt a needle in the back of his neck. His body began to sag and fail.

"Patience Mycroft Holmes, Patience!" Eurus teased laughing. His eyes shut.

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For 4 years Mycroft was trapped between solving the most intricate and sensitive of government issues and visits to the most dangerous place, his sisters jail. On family occasions he got a fifteen minute call home. They were the highlights of his life until Sherlock refused to come to the phone, by Sherlocks thirteenth birthday Mycroft didn't bother calling. However, around a week after he missed this call, Mycroft lay asleep in his rooms in Uncle Rudi's London house, he awakened to the sound of breaking glass. He'd always been a light sleeper ever since Sherlock had been young as Mycroft needed to be there for every scream that Eurus caused.

Out of instinct he took hold of the ivory handle of his umbrella. Whoever had broken in was not after Mycroft but rather his Uncle. As he crept down the corridor he unsheathed the hidden sword, his nineteenth birthday gift and pressed his ear to his Uncles door. He waited only a moment before a peircing scream ripped through the house followed by a gunshot. He hesitated for a millisecond before throwing the door open. A dark figure turned from the window ledge. Mycroft allowed his sword to glint in the moonlight attempting to intimidate the assassin who smiled before disappearing into the night.

After checking the window Mycroft turned to his Uncle who was bleeding on the bed. The bullet had been straight between the eyes he was definitely dead. Mycroft battled between the urge to throw up or smile in delight that his keeper was finally no more.

The police arrived in a matter of minutes and escorted Mycroft outside to an ambulance. After the paramedics had satisfied themselves that he was not injured and mentally stable they allowed him to speak to the police. "Mr Holmes is it?" Asked the Inspector. He was a big man who was definitely more interested in a six pack of beer than how he looked. Mycroft simply arched an eyebrow at him.

"Who is that?" He asked ignoring the man and pointing to a young officer throwing up in a bush. The Inspector looked at him surprised.

"Officer Lestrade, sir." He answered.

"Good, well I'd like to speak to him about what happened."

"Sir, I am more than equipped to understand and deal with the story you give me." The Inspector replied incredulously.

"I am well aware of that but I would rather speak to someone of my own age Inspector." Mycroft said. "Don't worry this case won't slip though your fingers like your marriage did." He finished before walking over to the young officer, leaving the Inspector stuttering and glaring after the young man.

Mycroft approached the young officer who was still bent over the bushes. He tapped the man on the back and offered him a packet of tissues. "Cheers..." he got out before seeing Mycroft bearing over him. "Sorry Sir!" He said sadly before straightening up. He heard of course of the young man who was so protected and important to the British government but he hadn't realised just how young the man was. He gave the impression of being much older in person even though he was stood in pyjamas. "If you umm.. don't mind me asking sir how old are you?" He stuttered god his stomach hurt.

"19, officer Lestrade." Replied the man. Lestrade swallowed the urge to cry out in surprise the powerful man before him was the same age. "Now why did you join the police?" Asked Mycroft.

"To help sir."

"Very obviously as you've only been on the job a month and volunteered to come and help on a murder scene even though you're considerably hung over. I meant where do you want to be in the police?" Lestrade started how on earth did the man know that? Anyone could tell he was hungover but the volunteering? And the month on the job?

"DI sir." He responded trying to keep as emotionless as the man before him.

"Okay well if it's alright with you I'll give you my statement and then you may have a chance at getting to that position quicker than you may realise."

"Thanks sir. But why are you doing this?"

"Because you remind me of a very intelligent detective and I would hope someone would show him the same kindness."

"What's his name sir?"

"Sherlock..." Mycroft replied and fell into his thoughts.

"Um... sir?" Lestrade asked.

"Oh yes my statement. You're looking for a man in his early twenties, inexperienced assassin, athletic build around six foot one, American and quite rich. A slightly crooked nose, brown hair, brown eyes and square jaw. Is that sufficient?" Lestrade chuckled.

"You've got to be the cleverest and most brilliant man I've ever met!" He said writing it down. Mycroft smiled at the young officer.

"Good luck officer Lestrade." He said before walking over to Lady Smallwood.

She smiled at him as he walked over to her. "You made quite the impression on that young officer." She said. Mycroft shrugged.

"What happens now? Rudi was basically the British government." He asked.

"Well that becomes your job... I must remind you that if you say no you will be detained for what you know." She stated. Mycroft nodded absent mindedly.

"When does this change come into effect?"

"Now." She clarified. Mycroft smiled.

"If it does then I want MI6 to stop following me and my family, I'm want the tracker removed from my neck and I'm going to need a suit."

"Where do you want it delivered sir?" Lady Smallwood asked. Mycroft gave his parents address and got into Lady Smallwoods limo. "Mr Holmes where are you going? The government..."

"Can wait, I haven't seen my family in four years and it's not like you can stop me." He interrupted with a sarcastic smile on his face. He shut the door and allowed the driver to take him home.


	5. Pt5

Sorry about the jump in time but trying to get the important bits in and I know I can drone on about pointless stuff so trying to get the important stuff according to BBC Sherlock sorry!

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4 years it had taken him to be standing there. Four horrible years and Sherlock was five years older than last time they'd seen each other. It was seven in the morning and Mycroft stood on his parents doorstep in his pyjamas. The cottage hadn't changed. He took a deep breath before knocking on the door. "I'll get it love!" Said his mother. Mycroft rubbed his eyes attempting to get rid of the bags under them from the morning he'd just had. The oak door swung open and the rosy face of Mrs Holmes set eyes upon her eldest son for the first time in a long while. She burst into tears instantly. She pulled Mycroft close and gave a muffled shout bringing Mr Holmes to the door. Eventually they pulled the stiff frame of their son into the living room and his mother made him a cup of tea.

"Now I know you have a lot of questions and I'm prepared to answer them all as honestly as possible but first I need a change of clothes." He said before his mother could begin. His parents nodded and let him go to his old room. As he stepped in he was aware that it hadn't been dusted at all which was just how he wanted it. He would be able to see if Sherlock had ever nicked anything recently.

Mycroft attempted to find some clothes that fit him, he had slimmed a lot since he was last in the house and he'd also grown a bit. He ended up tying his old belt around his waist and wearing the biggest jumper he could find. Satisfied that he no longer looked like he'd run away from some sort of asylum. He began to check his room. All of his chemistry kit had been taken and all of his textbooks. His microscope had gone and some of his old clothes though that was more likely his mums choice rather than his brother. Sherlock who had refused to speak to him around two years ago was in the next room right now. Eventually Mycroft stood in front of the mirror. A young man with brown hair, an emotionless face and clothes that were just too small and too wide for him looked back. It was like a metaphor for his life. Sighing he left his bedroom and stood outside of his brothers room.

He knocked, Sherlock was almost certainly up, he always was. Nothing. It had been four years he could've changed? No this was Sherlock he would just be him. Likeliness he was just ignoring Mycroft. He turned the handle and entered a dark room. There was a moan from the other side of the bed. The light from the door illuminated a small fragment of his brothers room and it was almost like Mycroft forgot how to breathe. This scared him more than anything he'd seen all day, he'd seen his Uncle shot right in front of him but this, this was far more disturbing. Needles lay strewn across the room, an almost skeletal frame lay in the bed. Mycroft flicked the light and ran around to other side of the bed. "Sherlock! Sherlock can you hear me! Mum! Mum come upstairs!" He yelled. Sherlocks breathing was shallow and his face gaunt. Mrs Holmes almost bounded up the stairs and upon seeing her sons room called for her husband to ring for an ambulance. Mycroft tried in vain to wake his little brother from the illness and eventually the ambulance arrived. They recognised Mycroft immediately and allowed him to travel with his brother. He gripped the thirteen year olds hand.

———————————————————————

Sat in the hospital Mycroft nervously tapped his fingers on his umbrella. He'd been in the same position for two days. He just couldn't leave Sherlock alone, the only thought was that he couldn't bear the thought of Sherlock waking up and no one being there. He hadn't eaten or slept during that time and even though he was wearing a suit he was aware that he probably looked like some sort of zombie. There was a knock at the door. A Doctor entered. "You're Mr Mycroft Holmes?" He asked. Mycroft nodded. "Can I speak with you?" Sighing Mycroft stood and followed the Doctor out of the room. They went into some sort of board room. "You might want to sit down." The Doctor said. Mycroft weighed it in his mind but eventually gave in.

"May I ask who you are?"

"Doctor Watson. Sir." He replied. The man was quite old. "And speaking as a father and a brother myself I can understand what is happening to you. Look the reason I have called you in here is because of the condition of your brother we were forced to do a brain scan and it's just... well the personality check that we did... well see for yourself." He handed Mycroft a file. Wearily Mycroft opened the beige file.

**Sherlock Holmes**

**IQ - 190 - extraordinary **

**Social skills - small and unused for a time.**

**Memory - Large and overused - some blank spots from childhood, some considerable trauma evident.**

**Relations- unused and forgotten**

**Intelligence - incredible and analysation unrivalled**

**Notes - possible psychotic tendencies due to lack of social skills.**

**Diagnosis - High Functioning Sociopath**

Mycroft stared at the words. Even his best efforts had not saved Sherlock from his past. But he hadn't been around for 4 years... maybe it wasn't completely his fault. No his parents had done this! They hadn't looked after him properly. He'd been allowed to buy drugs at 13 and because of Eurus he hadn't been able to make any friends. But Sherlock had been normal when Mycroft had left, no it began with Mycroft, he'd been gone four years and apparently they had changed his brother beyond anything he could've imagined.

"Mr Holmes, sir. Due to these results we have looked into how long he has been abusing drugs and we estimate around a year. Though the amount of intake is beyond anything I've ever seen, he appears incredibly resistant." Said the Doctor watching Mycroft sympathetically.

"Doctor Watson? If this was your son and you were the most powerful man in the country, what would you do?" Mycroft got out.

"I am aware of your position Mr Holmes and personally I would get someone to watch him, not now of course he is simply too young to be of any harm but when he becomes an adult, I'd watch him because you don't want to be stood with a gun against your brothers head. Or more likely the other way around."

"What's your sons name Doctor?"

"John sir."

"What does he want to be when he's older?"

"He wants to be in the army sir. A doctor like his old dad." The man smiled at this. Mycroft sighed and stood up.

"You got lucky Doctor Watson."

"In what way sir?"

"You got the normal family." Mycroft finished and left, leaving the Doctor in the room. Mycroft pinched his nose in thought. Today was supposed to have been the day when he could go back to normality to control but right now he was more lost than ever. He was still a teenager, possibly the smartest man in the British government and had a psychotic sister and a junkie of a brother who had also turned out to be a sociopath at age 13. God someone must hate him.

As he walked back to his brothers room he walked into a police officer. "Sorry," he muttered.

"No it was my fault Mr Holmes." Replied officer Lestrade who beamed back at the man.

"May I ask what you're doing here? If it's the government, tell them I'm on leave for a family crisis!" Said Mycroft irritably.

"No Mr Holmes I came here because I have something to offer you for what you did a couple of days ago."

"Lestrade, I am not interested in some sort of homemade jam, what I would be interested in is if you had found the men who sold my brother drugs." God he was not in the mood for this.

"You remembered me sir?"

"Well of course we met only a couple of days ago?"

"I know it's just my own commander forgot who I was within five minutes!"

"You has something to tell me officer?"

"Well I found out who the men were who sold your little brother drugs and arrested them." Lestrade said simply. Mycroft stared at the man. Why had he done that? No one did anything for free? He asked as much to which Lestrade smiled. "You've probably saved my life Mr Holmes! I was going to get thrown out of my flat that's why I was in such awful shape, I barely get paid anything, but now I'm going to be a Sergeant and I'll be able to pay my rent. So I decided to repay you." The young officer said grinning. Mycroft just smiled and thanked Lestrade.

Armed with the first bit of good news he finally went back to Sherlocks room. The boy was sat up in bed. Sherlocks hair was unusually limp and his face pale and gaunt he looked a lot older than he was and glared at Mycroft from his sunken eyes. "Hello Myc."

"Sherlock." The boys voice was croaky and awful but it didn't stop him talking.

"I suppose now you can't ignore me you had to come."

"I was at home, I found you. I travelled in the damn ambulance with you." Growled Mycroft. This took Sherlock by surprise.

"You were?"

"Yes brother mine I turned up on the doorstep in my pyjamas to find that my little brother had overdosed, and my parents were none the wiser!" Shouted Mycroft.

"You left and didn't come back for 4 years!" Sherlock replied.

"What do you think I did for four years? What stood around talking about taxes?"

"Yeah I think that's probably what you did!"

"Well you're wrong! I was made to torture people I had to watch as disicions I made killed people! I saw people die right before my eyes and some I even had to kill, myself!" Mycroft hissed. Sherlock looked at his brother but his expression didn't change.

"I'm not surprised but then you didn't have to go." Sherlock drawled. All of Mycrofts fight left him. Sherlock wasn't lying either, he genuinely believed that. Mycroft had lost to Eurus. This was her final victory. The 'recommendation'? It had been her, she'd pulled him away. Mycroft had looked into it.

"What did the Doctor say?" Sherlock asked watching every movement Mycroft made.

"Well you've certainly got some issues haven't you brother mine?"

"I didn't ask for the pantomime where you pretend to be clever I want to know what the Doctor told you!" Their parents came in and Sherlock sighed even Mycroft felt a little put out by his parents entrance.

"High Functioning Sociopath brother mine. That's the official term, and now I've got to go to work." Said Mycroft, maybe 4 years had made him forget just how much he hated family.

"But Mike what about your brother? Surely you owe him an explanation and us. You spent 4 years god knows where and you barely called and then you come back and you don't answer questions and then you're in tears when you found Sherlock in such a state and then you can somehow get him the best care in the hospital!" Exclaimed his mother. Sherlock stared at his brother in surprise.

"Don't worry you'll just have to buy a copy of the paper and it will all make sense, well maybe not to you but it will to Sherlock!" He said grinning before walking out of the room.

He managed to get back to Uncle Rudi's old house before he burst into tears. He was so lost. So lost. He had no idea what to do... No that was not quite true. He wiped the tears from his face and picked up the phone.


	6. Pt6

Sorry about the jump in time again. I thought this was quite funny but if you only want the important bit of the story skip until you see a line like the one below. :)

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The year was 1995. It was Christmas and 5 years since Uncle Rudi's death. He was stood on his parents porch. Sherlock stood a bit off. They were both smoking. Mycroft quite enjoyed it but couldn't stand anything more than low tar. Sherlock could though. Seems that old Doctor has been correct, Sherlock was remarkably resilient to any sort of drugs. Sherlock had turned eighteen this year and had delighted in the fact that Mycroft and their parents could no longer control him. "So how's work Myc?" Asked his brother. Mycroft looked up from his thoughts.

"Boring as ever brother mine, how is University?"

"Oh Dull. Still it's better than talking to Dad every evening!" Sherlock remarked in his usual drawl. Mycroft chuckled. He looked at the young man who stood with his back towards the him. Sherlocks hair still hung over his eyes, but apart from that he'd changed a lot. He was taller than Mycroft now and had almost perfected the cold mask that Mycroft had worn for a good many years now. It was possibly the only outward similarity that was visible in the brothers.

"Boys, dinner's ready!" Called their mother. Mycroft dropped his cigarette and placed his foot on it to stop the smoke.

"Happy Christmas brother mine." Said Mycroft. Sherlock turned to his brother.

"You still hate this don't you." Replied Sherlock tapping his cigarette to get rid of the ash.

"Hate what?" Inquired Mycroft.

"Christmas." Sherlock replied simply. Mycroft laughed. Sherlock grinned back. Together they walked back inside the house.

With Christmas Dinner over they had moved into the living room. Mycroft studied the glass of whiskey in his hand. His mother had only given him a small amount as she believed that Mycroft was driving. Apparently the absence of a car in the driveway had not informed his mother that Mycroft did not drive. "Now does anyone want any Christmas cake?" Asked Mrs Holmes. "Mikey?"

"Erm... No I'm on a diet."

"But it's Christmas?"

"And?" Mycroft replied. His mother huffed in frustration.

"Sherlock?"

"No."

"You used to love Christmas cake!" Their mother complained.

"Well now I don't." Said Sherlock stiffly.

"Do you remember when we used to say that Father Christmas left us the Christmas Cake and one year Sherlock attempted to set a trap for Father Christmas?" She said to no one in particular. Mycroft looked up at this and smiled at his brother who glared back.

"When was this?" Asked Mycroft.

"Mycroft!" Sherlock warned.

"Ooooh he must've been ten? Yes he sat up until four in the morning! Wires and ropes all around the room! It caught your father completely unawares when he walked in and the tree fell over!" Mrs Holmes said excitedly. Mycroft laughed. Sherlock turned his glare on his mother. "Oh don't look like that! It wasn't as if Mikey didn't have his obsessions as well!" Mycroft looked up sharply in mock annoyance.

"Oh and what did Mycroft do?" Said Sherlock suddenly interested.

"He was on antibiotics for a cold and was sure your father was trying to kill him with it! So he poured the rest of the antibiotics into your fathers tea and your dad took one sip and spat it into the sink!" Mycroft smiled.

"Not much has changed!" Said Sherlock. They all laughed. Mycroft sighed as his phone beeped. He pulled it out of his pocket and glanced at the text.

Security Issue need your input ASAP how quick can you be in London? LS.

Sighing he excused himself and walked outside he replied and called his driver. Mycroft paced up and down deep in thought. He was disturbed by the front door opening. Sherlock stepped out onto the gravel. "What was all that about?" He asked. Analysing every movement and breath Mycroft made.

"What brother mine?"

"That. I haven't seen mum and dad like that since you left. Then you left again."

"It's work, Sherlock." His brother appeared not to hear him. Sherlock just strode towards his brother and stopped a few paces away.

"Then why did you come? Family isn't at the heart of what you do is it Mycroft?" Sherlock asked. Mycroft sighed and looked down at the pebbles.

"Caring is not an advantage." Mycroft replied listening intently for an approaching engine. Sherlock watched cat like waiting for him to trip up.

"As you are ever fond of remarking... though tell me when did you adopt such a moral?" Sherlock mocked. Mycroft could see the day in his minds eye when caring had become something he'd despised. Sherlock reminded of him of that day every time Mycroft looked at him. Eurus' voice echoed in his head. She had been right, Mycroft did care about one person who couldn't help but hate him.

The car appeared in the driveway Sherlock gazed at his brother. "Merry Christmas Mycroft." He said. Mycroft hesitated before getting in. As the car pulled away Mycroft Holmes allowed himself to disappear into his memories.

———————————————

Mycroft snapped awake. Although in reality he hadn't really been asleep. Mycroft was 13 his birthday had been last month, it hadn't been much of a birthday he thought as he stumbled down the corridor. Sherlock had been injured as always though on Mycrofts birthday he'd finally worked out why. It was Eurus. She'd been experimenting in a medieval way on their brother. Mycroft opened his brothers door and switched on the lamp. "Sherl, there's no use pretending you're asleep I know you're awake." Mycroft whispered. His brother turned towards the light. Sherlocks mop of black hair fell over his reddened eyes. "What's wrong brother mine?" Mycroft asked. He smiled at his little brother attempting to comfort him. Sherlock held out his shaking hand. Mycroft sat down on the bed. He shushed his brother as Sherlock whimpered. Mycroft pushed back Sherlocks sleeves to reveal a number of bruises and small cuts. "It's going to be okay brother mine..." Mycroft whispered. Sherlock watched his brother closely trying to assess whether his brother was telling the truth.

"I love you Myc..." Sherlock said quietly. Mycroft stopped instantly and looked at the small, scared boy on the bed. How did Sherlock have hope? His brother was stuck in a nightmare but still managed to love and care for everyone around him even Mycroft himself. Though with Eurus Holmes in the world caring was not an advantage. If you cared about someone you were weak which was why Sherlock was so weak in the face of her. Whereas Mycroft cared for no one as he had never seen the point. Well not no one. It was impossible to dislike Sherlock.

"Do you want to get some ice cream and talk about chemistry?" Mycroft asked. Sherlock nodded eagerly and the brothers sat in the living room till the small hours of the morning smiling and laughing. Mycroft thought afterwards that that night was his birthday gift and was the possibly the calm before the storm as soon after that Redbeard went missing and Musgrave Hall was burnt down.

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Mycroft opened his eyes, he was in London. He got out of the car and walked into his offices. He met Lady Smallwood in the conference room.

"Merry Christmas Mycroft." She said immediately. Mycroft nodded in acknowledgment.

"Then may I ask why you summoned me?"

"Security Issue. We have a new person of interest."

"Who?" Mycroft asked interested.

"His name's James Moriarty..."


	7. Pt7

Sorry about the last one being short and not really essential to the story apart from the last bit. Hopefully this is better!

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"Absolutely not." Said Mycroft.

"You don't have a choice." Replied the voice from the phone.

"I think I do!"

"Mycroft Holmes you will do as you're told!"

"Why?"

"Because he's your brother!"

"And? As you know there is little brotherly compassion between us?"

"Mikey you're going to do this whether you like it or not!" Retorted his mother. Mycroft sighed and placed the phone back down on the receiver. He couldn't blame his parents Sherlock was annoying and he was surprised even his parents could put up with Mycrofts little brother. Although... the two of them hadn't spoken in 3 years. Mycroft sat down in his armchair. When had Sherlock ever even remotely liked anyone? That was a long time ago. Of course the last time Sherlock had liked his older brother had been when Mycroft had left all those years ago, even then Sherlock had been trying to distance himself. Though that had been an after effect of rewriting so many memories at once. Mycroft knew that... but the selfish side of him... still missed the little boy who trusted Mycroft without question and loved him no matter what he did. He allowed a memory to rise...

———————————————————————

Musgrave Hall. The day Redbeard went missing. Mycroft picked up a stone and skimmed it along the pond. He glanced over at his sister. Eurus was sat on the bank playing with Sherlocks old toys. Mycroft flicked his eyes to his little brother who was playing with Redbeard. His pirate hat askew and sword waving, Sherlock Holmes ran up and down on the shingle. Redbeard following loyally. Eurus watched them both with interest, as a scientist might regard an experiment. It was at that moment that Sherlock fell, cutting his knee on the stones. Eurus began to move towards her brother but Mycroft got there first. "Sherlock are you alright?" The elder Holmes asked. The boy nodded fighting his tears. "Come on Captain Yellowbeard I think you need to return to port to fix your ship..." Mycroft said helping the little pirate to his feet. "Eurus could you get the pirate stuff and bring Redbeard back?" Mycroft asked. His sister nodded watching the interaction between the brothers. Mycroft and Sherlock began their walk back to the great house.

"Thanks Myc."

"What for brother mine?" Mycroft asked staring ahead. He didn't like people relying on him like this especially when he cared for them. If something happened to Sherlock, he'd never forgive himself.

"Being nice..." replied the small boy. Mycroft smiled. They arrived at the house and their mother took care of Sherlocks cut.

Eurus arrived fifteen minutes later in time for tea.

"Where's Redbeard?" Asked Mycroft and from the look on his sisters face he didn't want to know. Eurus smiled. Mycrofts stomach churned.

"I that am lost, oh who will find me, deep down below the old beech tree, help succour me now, the east winds blow, sixteen by six brother and under we go." She sang. Sherlock sprang into action and ran back out to the grounds. Mycroft went to follow when his mother grabbed him and pushed two jackets into his hands and let him go. Mycroft ran after Sherlock.

At 9 o'clock they were forced to go inside as the sunset. They'd been searching for 3 hours. Mycroft had repeated the rhyme aloud for the family at least 100 times. How people could function without being able to commit things to memory was beyond him. Sherlock went straight to his room when they got in. The rest of the family sat around the table in near silence. Mycroft went over the rhyme in his head but it was just as confusing as before. "I'm going to try and get Eurus to tell us again." Said his father. A few minutes later his mother followed. Mycroft decided to go and see his little brother.

He knocked and entered. Sherlock had his face buried in his pillow. "Sherlock?"

"Yes..."

"Do you want to... ummm... talk?" Asked Mycroft who was considerably inexperienced in such situations.

"No." Replied the boy. Mycroft sighed and sat down on the bed.

"Don't shut out the world brother mine." Mycroft said.

"You always have!" Replied Sherlock.

"Yes... but you've always been smarter than me... and you care about people Sherlock. You're the child our parents deserved not Eurus and certainly not me. You're better than me Sherlock. Which is why I have to protect you and I should've protected you this time but I didn't. I... I'm sorry Sherlock." Mycroft got out. He hated saying how he felt but Sherlock always did and it was true Sherlock was better than Mycroft in so many ways. Sherlock looked at his brother from behind his tear stained eyes. He opened his mouth to speak when Mycroft could suddenly smell burning. He opened Sherlocks door and saw the flames from the end of the corridor. He yelled in fright and shut the door.

"What's wrong Myc?" Asked Sherlock.

"Sherlock, you need to do exactly what I tell you, when I tell you. Got it?" Mycroft said as calmly as he could manage. His brother nodded. "Good, help me pull back this carpet." Said Mycroft. He remembered reading a floor plan when he was younger and there was a trapdoor in Sherlocks room that lead to the back door. The two boys pulled back the rug and Mycroft pulled on the iron clasp. Together they wrenched the door open.

The flames licked underneath the bedroom door as Sherlock began to descend. Mycroft hastily followed as the smoke began to choke the oxygen out of the room. They were both coughing and wheezing as they reached the bottom. "It's locked!" Shouted Sherlock.

"Give me your sword!" Mycroft shouted back.

"Why?"

"Because I can get the plastic through the side of the door and move the latch on the other side!" Sherlock began to cough hard as he passed his sword to his brother. Mycroft knelt next to the wooden door and slotted the sword through the gap between the door and wall. He dragged the sword upwards and listened for the satisfying movement of the latch. The metal grinded upwards as years of rust was forced into movement. Mycroft pushed his shoulder against the door and it quickly opened. "Come on Sherlock!" He yelled. The two brothers ran out of the house and Mycroft dragged his brother up a little incline until Sherlock tripped up. Bringing his brother down with him. The two of them led panting on the grass watching their home burn until the firemen took them away.

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Mycroft sat in his car on his parents drive waiting for Sherlock to get in the car. Why on earth did Sherlock have to come and live with him? God the memory of Musgrave he hadn't visited in a while but it was still so clear. Mycroft looked at his parents as they waved Sherlock goodbye. Sherlock Holmes, who had achieved the highest degree in Chemistry and knew nearly every unsolved case in the last 20 years and was set to be a model citizen but he was also a drug addict and a sociopath. The last two were product of Eurus. Even the job he wanted was because of Eurus, and he didn't know. It was better this way, Mycroft told himself. Sherlock got into the car and stared forward.

"Mycroft." He said.

"Sherlock." His brother replied.

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It must've been a month after the new year of 2005. Sherlock had been staying at Mycrofts house for around four months and hadn't moved except to conduct experiments at Bart's morgue. Mycroft opened the door and once again found his brother watching TV and led out on the sofa. "Don't open the butter tub!" He said instantly. Mycroft groaned as he put his jacket on the hook.

"Why brother mine?"

"Experiment." He said simply. Mycroft flicked the kettle on. "I'll have a tea." He called in. Mycroft suppressed the urge to tell him to get his own tea.

Mycroft made two cups of tea and reluctantly handed one to his brother. "Can you turn the TV down Sherlock?" He asked as he pulled out some paperwork.

"What for?" He asked unbothered.

"Because it's my flat and I'm sure mum and dad would love to have you back there where you can't do any harm to the criminal justice system. That is if you still want to be a detective?" Mycroft said without looking up. He smiled as the tv became quieter.

"How was work?" Asked Sherlock from the window.

"Dull as always brother mine." Responded the elder Holmes. "So what's in the butter tub?"

"Eyes." Replied Sherlock. Mycroft groaned and sipped his tea. What was in that!

"Sherlock what did you put in the sugar jar!"

"Salt."

"Why?"

"Psychological experiment." Sherlock said simply.

"For gods sake Sherlock! What else is going to annoy me before I can do my work?" Mycroft said tired already by Sherlocks games. His younger brother grinned from the window.

"How do you feel about an idented shelf in your room?" He said. Mycroft shot out of his chair and was in his bedroom in moments. There was no difference. Why had he agreed to have his brother staying at his? Knowing Sherlock he would probably never leave. Unless he had a case...

"Hello Lestrade," Mycroft said with a smile.


	8. Pt8

Thank you so much for reading!

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Mycroft Holmes straightened his tie and shut the door of his car. Why on earth had he agreed to go this party? Apparently it was supposed to boost his 'image'. He was part of the secret service. He didn't have an image! Although he had a reputation for being boring and uninterested at parties so he wouldn't need to socialise.

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Around an hour into the party, Mycroft was sat in front of the fire. Just as he did at home. He hated social activities. Everyone here was incredibly boring maybe because they were considerably older than Mycroft himself and so no longer cared about the country just as long as it lined their pockets. He should be at HQ helping with the AGRA mission. Months of planning had gone into it but they'd told him to go this infernal party as he apparently needed a break from work. His phone buzzed in his pocket, please say they needed him on the mission, please! Security notice.

**Mr Holmes**

**Your brother Sherlock has gone missing from tracking and satellite. He is not in his flat. We need your expertise as soon as possible.**

**MI6.**

Mycroft was out of his seat and out of door in seconds. He practically threw the driver out of the car. He drove through three red lights until he slammed the breaks on when he arrived at Sherlocks flat. He raced up the stairs and opened up the door. Sherlock didn't bother locking up, not when he went to a drug house. Mycroft began his deductions. Within moments he was extracting bits of cement off of Sherlocks coat. He went into the study where there was practically entire lab set up. He placed it under the microscope and waited for Sherlocks computer to process it.

Mycroft rang MI6 and had them do a check of nearby roads that had been relayed with Exeter cement within a quarter mile radius. They gave him a road and a drug house that coincided. Mycroft smiled and left the flat. He got into the car and followed the directions he'd been given eventually he arrived at a decript house that looked like it was out of a horror movie. This was exactly Sherlocks sort of place. Mycroft picked up his umbrella and twisted the handle. Revealing the sword Mycroft walked into the looming building. Inside a man stood behind a table smoking. "What can I do for you mister?" He asked. The man was probably early twenties. Incredibly thin as was stereotypical of addicts. His face was gaunt with a broad smile stretched over it. Mycroft brandished the blade and watched as the mans smile slowly turned to fear.

"Do you know where I can find a customer named Sherlock Holmes?" Mycroft asked with the best psychotic smile he could muster as perfected by Eurus.

"Sorry Mister... b-b-but I can't tell ya p-personal information of c-clients!" He practically squeaked. Mycroft smiled even broader and moved the blade so it was positioned an inch from the mans adams apple that bobbed in fear.

"I will only ask once more. Where is Sherlock Holmes?"

"C-corner!" He yelped. Mycroft removed the sword from the mans neck and walked over to the dingy corner. Upon seeing his little brother Mycroft felt a weight return to his shoulders. How was he stood in a drug den with Sherlock overdosed on the floor whilst keeping his younger sister on an island with the top security. If Redbeard hadn't died they wouldn't be where they were right now.

Mycroft pulled his brothers arm around his shoulders and managed to drag Sherlock into the back of the car. His brother wasn't responding and he was incredibly weak.

Mycroft dragged the limp figure into the hospital. Doctors quickly came to his aid and took Sherlock away. Mycroft was taken to the waiting room and sat staring at his brothers room until they eventually let him in.

A nurse entered disturbing Mycroft. "Sir, your brother won't be awake until at least tomorrow evening. Maybe you should go home for the night? We can contact your office if there is any developments. Speaking as a medical professional you should get some rest." She said. Watching Mycroft closely.

"I'll stay for a while, but thank you for your concern..." Mycroft whispered. She nodded and left. Just then Mycrofts phone began to ring. He picked it up and walked out of Sherlocks room as to not disturb him.

**"Hello?"**

**"Mr Holmes, we have a situation. The AGRA mission has failed. We don't know if there are any survivors but we need you to organise a team to extract any agents."**

**"What happened?"**

**"They knew that AGRA were coming. We need your agents to go to Tbilisi and extract any survivors, sir."**

**"I will go. I will need an aircraft capable of sustaining a patient and an onboard doctor. I will be at base Alpha within the hour. Get it done!" **With that Mycroft hung up.

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It was five in the morning when Mycroft arrived at the general hospital. It took a while until they were properly informed as there were an incredible amount of aliases and of course as Mycroft was ever reminded that there could be no survivors. Eventually they found the correct name and information and Mycroft was taken to the room. At least it wasn't someone he cared about in this hospital room. A small comfort.

The woman had short blonde hair and green eyes which watched Mycroft defensively. "Who are you?" She asked. She had suffered injuries but they weren't too serious. She had a broken arm and a broken rib but overall she appeared to be alright.

"My name is not important. What is important is my question."

"Oh yes and what's that?"

"Why did the mission fail?" Mycroft asked. She hesitated before saying.

"We got a last minute message changing the plan a-and we were sold out. They knew." She replied holding back tears. "Did anyone else survive?"

"No. I'm sorry. As of now there is no AGRA and I regret to tell you that our agreement has been terminated, but as recognition for your services we hope to help you back into society. As a version of Witness Protection. I apologise for your loss." The man answered. She looked away from Mycroft and gazed out the window.

"How soon can I be back in England?"

"Today, if you would like." Mycroft replied hopefully, he wanted to be back. She looked back at the man before nodding.

———————————————————————

Rosamund sat up and looked across the plane to the strange man who was taking her back to England. His face was unreadable, Rosie always prided herself on being able to determine people's emotions and therefore their character but all the time she'd seen him there was no emotion at all. He was completely void of anything or so he had seemed until now. Now he looked sad. The man checked his phone impatiently and played with a ring on his finger. He suddenly noticed her and moved seats so he was closer. "How are you?" He asked.

"Stiff," She replied. "Are you okay?" She dared to ask. He smiled showing his sadness.

"Is anyone?"

"No but you seem worse than normal." He laughed at this, it was hollow and unfeeling. Rosie resisted the urge to pull back. Although his job probably demanded unfeeling calculators. So what was bothering him?

"Yes well in consideration of your problems mine seem rather trivial."

"Yeah well mine are all about to disappear as I quite literally become a different person." Rosie actually wanted to know now. The man seemed like a conundrum.

"Fine." He said shaking his head. "It's my brother, he recently overdosed and is in intensive care in London." He paused and looked at the utter confusion on her face. Mycroft decided to change the subject. "What name will you take?" She looked away now in thought after a few minutes she turned back to the man.

"Mary... Mary Morstan, it was the name on a gravestone in the town I grew up in. I always liked it." She returned and watched the thoughtful expression on his face. "What's your brothers name?" She attempted. Mycroft smiled and the mask began to return. He thought for a moment.

"I'll do you one better... My name is Mycroft Holmes head of the British Government. Now the Doctor wishes for me to leave you to rest. Goodbye Mary Morstan. It was pleasure to meet you..." Mycroft replied. He got up and made to leave that part of the cabin when Mary replied.

"I hope your brother improves. You obviously care for him, and thank you for saving my life." She said.

"No...Thank you..." Mycroft smiled to himself.

———————————————————————

Mycroft arrived back at the hospital at six in the evening. He was assured that nothing had changed in Sherlocks condition and he was still asleep. Mycroft sat in Sherlocks room for around an hour until the detective began to wake up.

"Mycroft?"

"Welcome back brother mine." Mycroft replied, he was incredibly tired and couldn't be bothered with Sherlocks games.

"Mmm... How is the diet?" He mumbled. Mycroft sighed.

"Fine Sherlock..." he replied. "Well I will come back tomorrow... good night detective." He got up and walked towards the door.

"Happy Birthday Myc." Sherlock said suddenly. Mycroft pulled out his phone. It was indeed his birthday. "It's in my pocket."

"What is brother mine?"

"Your present." He stated and turned to face his brother. Confused Mycroft searched in Sherlocks pockets. He pulled out an envelope. Turning it over he realised it wasn't addressed. It was already open though. The paper was stained and obviously quite old. Mycroft opened it with care. It was then that he realised what it was. That note he'd given to Sherlock all those years ago, before he'd left with Uncle Rudi. When Sherlock still cared. "I read it countless times, every day for the first year as I thought you would come back." He said watching Mycroft with care.

"Why are you giving me this?" Mycroft whispered.

"I have no need for it anymore. I don't need your protection. So this is my birthday present to you Mycroft you no longer have to care for me. I won't tell mum and dad. Happy Birthday." Sherlock said. Mycroft looked at him. Did Sherlock really think that this was what he wanted?

"Thank you Sherlock..." Mycroft said and left the room.


	9. End

This is the last chapter in the Powers series! Thank Thank you for reading! Also if you have any scenes you'd like to see, please comment and I will attempt to write them! Also I apologise for the time jump but the tv show covers most of it. Thank you! By the way this is quite a short chapter and nothing really happens it just finishes it off.

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Mycroft sat on a park bench. He was waiting for Dr Watson. Over all that had happened in the last 7 years the appearance of John Watson was possibly the most surprising thing to Mycroft maybe only rivalled by the fact that Sherlock had taken a liking to someone. It had been a couple of weeks since the Sherrinford incident, Eurus was silent now.

John walked down th path and took a seat next to Mycroft. "Good afternoon John." Mycroft said. John stared forward, his dislike for the elder Holmes was evident.

"Why have you summoned me here Mycroft?"

"I wished to talk to you about my brother." Mycroft replied. John laughed coldly.

"Of course you do."

"Is there a problem?"

"Let's see, you allowed him to believe his best friend was dead, you kept his sister hidden and in a secret jail in the middle of knowhere and allowed her to play her stupid mind games on him." John hissed. Mycroft looked away and tried to keep a lid on his temper.

"I've said I'm sorry Doctor." Mycroft managed, watching the people in the park go about their dull little lives.

"Mycroft Sorry doesn't cover it." John replied.

"Then what would."

"I couldn't tell you. This is beyond any family trouble I have ever encountered."

"But you are a Doctor!" Mycroft said curtly.

"And your the British Government and yet your brother did better." John growled back.

"I know Sherlock did better than me! Just as always hoped he would... he was so miserable when that dog died and that's why he is like he is..." Mycroft replied sadly. Staring into the distance. John turned to him in surprise.

"What do you mean... dog..." John said suddenly confused.

"Redbeard, Sherlocks dog." Mycroft answered questioningly.

"Redbeard wasn't a dog. Redbeard was a boy. Victor Trevor, Sherlocks best friend..." John said slowly. Mycroft stared confounded at the Doctor and then his memory began to return. He saw everything in perfect clarity the young boy that would come round to play with Sherlock. Victor Trevor from up the road. Mycrofts breathing quickened. How had his mind deceived him? How? How had he still kept that image of the dog for so long? Mycroft stood up in a daze he began walking away towards his car. John quickly followed.

"Hang on, you didn't know? Mycroft you need to tell me, if you are Sherlock is mad at you for the wrong reasons!"

"You can't tell Sherlock." Mycroft said quietly.

"This is for his own good Mycroft not yours! I'm going to tell Sherlock and then maybe we can put this behind us!" John shouted and quickly walked away. Mycroft watched the Doctor walk away. Every thing was over, the game was up, Mycroft had failed.

———————————————————————

It had been around a month since Eurus or as John called it, 'The Final Problem'. He wasn't quite sure if he was going to write it up on his blog just yet. Although everything had almost gone back to normal. Sherlock was solving cases again but he did occasionally have memories return. John was there though. Every time. He stood on Mycrofts doorstep. It was funny he'd known the elder Holmes for seven years and had never really known anything about the man, Sherlock apparently didn't know much about his brother. John knocked and waited patiently in the cold. The door opened revealing a very haggard Mycroft Holmes. His usual impeccable posture was gone and his suit was ruffled and creased. Bags had formed under his eyes and he looked like an old man.

"Dr Watson," he said cordially.

"Mycroft," John replied stiffly. He suppressed the fear that rose from the overbearing nature of the elder brother. "Look I just wanted to check that you were, alright." John managed. "As did Sherlock." Pulling the detective into view.

"I'm fine, why wouldn't I be?" Queried Mycroft.

"Well you haven't been into work, you haven't been whisking me off into black cars, you haven't been watching your brother or sending some agent to do it for you." Replied John. Mycroft smiled. "Even someone as ...slow as me noticed."

"My brother does you an injustice, although you do have a tendency to end up in quite dangerous situations. As I think I told you the first time we met." Said Mycroft.

"Well can I just check as a Doctor? Please." John asked. Mycroft sighed before opening the door. Mycrofts house was dark and it appeared that the man had been sleeping on the sofa for the last month.

John moved over to the fireplace as Mycroft opened the blinds and took a seat in an armchair. Sherlock sat down on the makeshift bed. "I never thanked you." John said suddenly, admiring the clock on the mantelpiece.

"For what?"

"You offered to give your life instead of mine." John said simply looking at the man.

"No Doctor my brother would've always chosen that option I just wanted him to know he was making the correct decision." Mycroft replied. Sherlock turned sharply to his brother.

"Then even more reason for me to thank you, you placed Sherlock before yourself." John replied trying to analyse the ice man.

"I have always done so Dr Watson, I doubt there's much of the story you're missing but you are missing my side. Ever since Eurus was taken away I took it upon myself to watch Sherlock and it always seemed to end with Sherlock hating me all the more for it." Mycroft explained with a smile on his lips. John watched as the man played absent mindedly with his ring. Sherlock noticed everything no emotion over his face. The brother noticed Johns attention.

"A gift, Sherlock gave me it when I was fifteen at Christmas." John nodded and allowed himself to take a seat opposite Mycroft. Sherlock stared at Mycroft his mind raced as he began to realise just how much his brother cared.

"I don't expect you to open up to me, I don't know all that much about you but that's why Sherlock is here. Doesn't matter what about but you should get to know the man you care about, that we care about." John said.

"You remind me of your father."

"What? You knew my dad?" Asked John.

"Yes, he looked after my brother after Sherlock had his first overdose, he advised me on what to do and he told me of you. Of course I had no idea that the Doctor he told me of would change my brothers life. Perhaps that was one deduction to far." Mycroft chuckled at this. John watched as the sarcasm that usually laced Mycrofts voice completely disappeared.

"Look Mycroft just talk to us"

"Sherlock has never needed me, I just needed to tell myself something. That I had a reason for caring, as I have always said caring is a disadvantage." Mycroft said sadly.

"Then now is your chance to change that, Sherlock changed."

"But I made him that in the first place. This entire thing is my fault John."

Then Sherlock finally spoke. "That's not true, I looked at your file in the unofficial records. Nothing that happened to you was your choice Myc. First it was Eurus and then Uncle Rudy. No this isn't your fault." Mycroft stared at Sherlock. Sherlock looked back at the ice man with what seemed like a perfect mask no emotions passed the detectives face.

"It isn't," Mycroft said cautiously.

"You did your best Mycroft. Better than any brother could have been expected to. I pushed you away because I didn't understand because I didn't observe." Sherlock said standing up and walking over to the man. "I think it's time to elaborate on Johns writing. I think that you are the best and wisest **brother **that has ever been." Sherlock extended a hand towards the elder Holmes. Mycroft looked up and smiled, then he stood up and shook the Detectives outstretched hand.


End file.
